


Pisces

by odiko_ptino



Series: Featured Character: Poseidon [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen, Pisces - Freeform, origin of the constellation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: The origin of the constellation + what was Poseidon doing when Typhon came round





	Pisces

Aphrodite is wandering a beach off the coast of Syria when she hears it.

At first, only a strange, distant rumbling.  It’s odd, and like nothing she’s heard before, but the world is still somewhat new to her and so at first she feels only curiosity, with just a current of unease.

Then, she feels the earth tremble beneath her feet, while winds begin to tear at her clothes and hair. A dread begins to build within her, and she hurries to the shore where Eros is playing in the surf.  It’s as she’s reached her son that she finally sees it.

In the distance, over the waters, a dark cloud boils up out of seemingly nowhere.  Nothing like Zeus’ stormclouds, with which she is familiar. This cloud is huge and takes up more of the sky than it should.  The winds whip it about and tear tiny spaces in the cloud, through which a nightmare can be seen.

An enormous form, more gigantic than anything Aphrodite has ever seen, is within the dark cloud.  It appears to cover the entire distance from sea to sky.  At its base, a writhing mass of hissing snakes churn the waters.  Along the length of the torso, occasional flashes of hands with fingers like blades can be seen.  The head of this creature… is not a head.  It’s many hundreds of heads.  They also appear snakelike, except the snake-heads morph into many other animals – all terrifying, with red eyes and sharp teeth.  As it approaches, the roar from a hundred throats pierces and deafens and shakes the world.  Fire spits from the mouths and adds smoke and steam to the storm.

Aphrodite clutches Eros to her and gapes, frozen in terror.  She has no idea what she can do.  It’s moving so fast, she doesn’t think she can possibly outrun it.  Ares is somewhere nearby – he accompanied her to Syria – but he wandered off in search of an orchard to bring fruit back for her to eat, and she doesn’t know exactly where he is, or if he could reach her in time.  From the looks of this thing, she doesn’t believe Ares could face it anyway.

She almost doesn’t hear the sound of the voice shouting at her from the waves, over the din of the storm, but Eros does, and tugs her hair to get her to look.  A large fish is leaping frantically in the surf, calling to her.

The storm grows bigger and roars louder as it approaches with the terrifying giant in its center. With a final fearful glance behind for Ares, Aphrodite leaps into the waters, taking Eros with her.

—————–

Aphrodite and Eros cling to the large fish and it immediately dives and attempts to swim down. The first twenty feet or so of water are churning violently, and the fish strains to swim further and deeper. It’s difficult to hang on – the scales are slippery, and the water beats at all three of them, threatening to knock Aphrodite and Eros away.  Aphrodite grips her son hard enough to make him cry out; but she is terrified of losing hold of him.

After a certain depth, the waters calm considerably, and the noise becomes more muted.  Another fish joins them – smaller than the first.  

It’s only at this moment that Aphrodite recognizes them.  “Aphros – Bythos!”  

The second one offers a tired flip of its tail – a fish version of a smile.  “Lady Aphrodite.  Bythos – here, let me take the boy – ”

He sidles up alongside the exhausted first fish – Aphros, of course – and after a confirming glance at his mother, Eros takes hold of it.  

“We aren’t safe yet, Lady Aphrodite,” says Aphros.  “We have to dive deeper, to stay out of this monster’s reach…”

“But wait – Ares – ”

“I’ve just come back from dragging him into the deep waters,” Bythos assures her.  “I’ve told him that we will keep you safe.  I aided him in turning into a fish as well, so that he could swim to Egypt – that is where he hopes to rendezvous with the other gods.”

“The other gods?  What is happening up there?”

The fish look grim. “This is Typhon.  He was born of the rage of Gaia and Tartarus, and seeks war on Olympus.  You cannot possibly fight him, Lady – nor can Ares.  All gods have fled.  Ares suspects they are in Egypt.”

“…My husband? Hephaestus?”  Aphrodite cannot imagine him running swiftly enough on his twisted legs, and her chest tightens in worry.  

“All gods have fled,” Bythos repeats.  “They turned to birds and flew away.  All gods… save Zeus.”

Aphrodite drops her head to the scales and blinks in shock.  Olympus deserted?  But it must be.  No god that she knows could face such a monster.  Not even…

“Zeus did not escape? Is he slain?”  Aphrodite doesn’t know how to feel about this.  Her feelings towards Zeus are ambivalent, to say the least.

“Typhon has not reached Olympus yet.  Zeus has remained, in defiance.”

The fish say no more, but Aphrodite knows enough of their silence to guess the rest.  They believe this may be Zeus’ final stand.

They dive deeper. It’s smoother, now, as Aphros and Bythos split the work of carrying their passengers, and the turmoil of the surface doesn’t reach here.  Eros is clinging to Bythos with one hand, and Aphrodite’s hand with the other.  He’s frightened.  It’s new to him – he’s still only a small child, even newer to taking this physical form than Aphrodite herself, and he’s distressed by this unfamiliar new vulnerability.  When they were primordial beings, a creature like Typhon would have only been a curiosity to them.  

As the water darkens and stills, and the noise above is virtually silenced, Eros gains a little more confidence and begins swimming alongside Bythos, still keeping one hand on the old fish. He must not remember them from before. The two ancient fish were foster parents, of a sort, when Aphrodite was only foam and seawater, churning aimlessly and considering what form she might take.  The fish had guided her through the waters and told her stories to amuse the infant goddess – mostly, tales of the adventures of handsome river gods, and courageous sea beasts, and the lovely water-nymphs.  Many tales of the all-encompassing Queen Amphitrite and her consort, the mighty King Poseidon.

They hadn’t told her much of Zeus or the Olympians – they were of little interest to fish.

Deeper still, and Eros, who has already forgotten the danger, darts ahead in sudden excitement at a figure that emerges from the dark waters.

“Uncle ‘Seidon!” the child yells, gleeful, throwing himself at the Lord of the Sea.  He’s not Eros’ uncle, of course, but in Olympus, Poseidon is either a brother or uncle.  

Poseidon is a handsome man – most gods are, of course; save for one.  He’s tall and powerfully built, like his brothers.  His hair is a deep green, so dark it almost seems black, except when touched by Helios’ rays.  The long hair is usually tied back, to keep it from swirling about when he is within his realm, and he rarely wears anything much more than a perizoma for the sake of modesty.  Any other clothes get in the way, in the water.

Aphrodite takes a moment to appreciate the chiseled, handsome virility of the Lord of the Sea. Here, in this place, he seems just like how she remembers from her daydreams as a child – mysterious and powerful; mercurial but always splendid and noble.  

Being one of his peers has diminished much of the mystery, as well as the idea that he is particularly noble in behavior, but, well.  She’s hardly in a position to call the kettle black.  

Poseidon catches her son in his arms as she bows her head briefly in respect and acknowledgement of her presence in his realm.  “King Poseidon.  Thank you for sending your servants to rescue us.”

Poseidon’s normally totally impassive face is uncharacteristically expressive at the moment – he’s making a face at Eros while the child tugs ungently at his beard. “I’m glad they did, though I’m sure they would have anyway.  They’re your old companions, after all.”  He winces again as Eros tugs on the small hoop earrings the god wears – another detail she’d forgotten.  He always removes them when he comes above the surface, since there’s such a gendered association with earrings, but most of the ocean-dwelling humanoids wear them. They’re one of the few types of ornamentations that doesn’t interfere with swimming.

Aphrodite hides a smile at his discomfort and places a hand on the scales of Aphros and Bythos.  “My old companions came through for me now, as they did so many years before.  My dear friends, I wonder if you would be kind enough to rescue your king from the torments of yet another child?”

The fish flip their fins in amusement.  “It would be our pleasure, Lady Aphrodite.  Noble Eros, if you would…”

They hustle the child away to play with some pearls scattered on the sand beneath them, illuminated by the light of Poseidon’s trident, which he has planted nearby. The Sea-king sighs.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.  Though, I suppose you have an even more fearsome monster to concern yourself with – ”

She glances up, towards the surface, where there is still the faintest muffled sound – all that’s left of the roar of Typhon.  She looks back at Poseidon, who hasn’t moved or changed expression.

“Ah, yes.  I’ve heard.  As you can see… we are only dimly aware of the troubles above.  My realm is largely untouched.  Same with Hades, I hear,” he adds, as she blinks in surprise.

“It has been… quite a few years, since I dwelled here,” she says, uncertainly.  “From what I remember of her, though, surely Queen Amphitrite is mighty indeed.  Perhaps strong enough to face Typhon.”

Poseidon’s face remains blank.  “I suppose she might be.”

There is a long pause. It’s… unexpected, that this is turning out to be a dangerous conversation topic, but upon reflection, maybe she shouldn’t be surprised.

“Are you not worried for your brother’s fate?” she asks softly, keeping her posture relaxed, watching Eros play with the old fish.  A few nereids come to watch, a little ways off, she smiles at them, making every aspect of her demeanor calm.

“As concerned as he was, when I dove into the sea to face Amphitrite, unknowing whether she would concede the realm; share it with me; or slay me for my attempt,” he answers.  His posture is a bit stiff, and his voice a bit too casual, which is good – if he’s defensive, it means he wants her to see his point of view.  If there was heat, or agitation, she’d be facing a problem.

“Aphros and Bythos told me that story,” she says, gesturing to where they are playing hide-and-seek with Eros.  “The tale of how the upstart young Poseidon impressed Queen Amphitrite with his courage. She was so impressed that she became shy and hid from such a courageous, handsome man, and the mysterious interloper had to send a charming dolphin to coax her out.  A very romantic story… very influential to me, when I finally decided to leave the waves.”

“I’m sure they gave you the child’s version.  They left out how I was absolutely positive she was going to destroy me for my boldness and impertinence.  I had brought my trident knowing it was not going to do much – how do you fight the sea? I thought I would be crushed, left at the bottom of the sea to dwell there defeated until the end of time.  I got lucky that she mistook desperation for confidence.”

“Many tales get condensed, and leave out the messy parts.  I still think it’s romantic.”

“In any case, I faced her alone.”

They fall silent for a moment.  She hears a muffled booming, distant overhead.

Poseidon speaks again. “Very, very briefly, in the window of time between being thrown up from Cronus’ belly, and when we drew the lots – when my brothers and sisters were still planning our strike, Demeter and I ran a scouting mission together.  In preparation for the final battle.  We took the form of horses, to disguise ourselves, and grew close.  Both of us enjoyed ourselves enough that we could almost forget the seriousness of the situation.  We spoke of the future.  We thought, perhaps we might marry, and rule the plains together.”

The rest doesn’t really need to be said, and he doesn’t say it.  He became the god of the sea when they drew lots.  The sea, which has little to do with the plains, and he would have little use to Demeter as a consort.  And the sea had its own inhabitants, its own rulers, that Poseidon had to conquer somehow, by speech or by force.  Aphrodite had assumed that, also, was a team effort, but apparently not.

She thinks, though, that it explains why Demeter never did marry anyone, and Hera never tries to make her.

“It never turns out how you expect, does it.  I’m a little dissatisfied with my own situation,” she admits aloud for the first time in her existence.

Poseidon gives her a side-eye.  “You mean, your marriage to Hephaestus?”

“No.  Heph’s sweet.  I like making him happy.”  She remembers Hephaestus, or at any rate his name, from her incorporeal seafoam days of drifting through Poseidon’s realm.  The sad, angry, mysterious boy, fostered by two of the nereids, creating beautiful treasures for no one while he stayed locked up in his grotto. Aphrodite, with her romantic mind still filled with fairy tales, had remembered instantly when she heard the name again on Olympus.

She sighs.  “Heph is a fine husband, and I’m happy I chose him. But Ares needs me too.  He’s just as lonely as his brother, even though he’s a lot more stoic about it.  Right up until he blows up in fury… a lot like you, actually.  Anyway, I want to love both of them, and bring them happiness. I want to love  _everyone_ , and accept their love for me – not even just men. Back when I was seafoam – back when I was still a concept, without form, I always intended to be more of a free spirit. To drift from person to person, and inspire love in them.  And I’ll admit to being a bit disappointed, after so many tales of hearing of the powerful and majestic Queen Amphitrite, that up in Zeus’ realm a goddess is never so impressive as her husband.”  

He shrugs.  “It’s always strange to me, how they interpret our marriage. But I’m the only one they see, so they make their assumptions.  Though… I’ve noticed, that Ares defers to you, often.”

“He does.”

A particularly loud roar manages to pierce the depths, and Eros, Aphros and Bythos rush back over, seeking protection.  Poseidon seems unconcerned.  He tickles under Eros’ chin to make the boy laugh, and sends him over to a couple of nereids to play.

“Zeus has not yet been called upon to sacrifice much, or to prove he is worthy of the realm he gained. Typhon is not a threat to my realm. He is not a threat to Hades, either, and you won’t see Hades intervene.  Tartarus is Hades’ burden, and he also faced that alone.  We drew our lots.  I am responsible for the sea.  Hades is responsible for the underworld… Zeus is king of the heavens. This is something Zeus has to do, and he knows it.”

“I understand.  I thank you, still, for offering me shelter.”

“You’re a daughter of the sea, in some ways.  You are welcome here any time.”

He hesitates, and looks steadfastly off into the dark waters, not at her.  “If Zeus falls to Typhon, it would be fate speaking.  We could start over… remake the world again. You could wander from lover to lover as you pleased, and be worshipped as you deserve.  And perhaps.  Perhaps I could return to the plains as a Lord of the Horses once again.”

“Perhaps,” she says, giving him a kiss on the cheek, because he looks like he needs one.

————

They stay for a day or so, in Poseidon’s palace.  Poseidon is clearly willing to take her to bed, and everyone knows Amphitrite takes no notice of infidelities (or even cares); but Aphrodite is still too worried about Ares and Hephaestus to consider it.

Eros plays with Aphros and Bythos and it makes her heart twinge, to see him so free and at ease, the way she herself must have been once.  Before she’d left the waves and been forced to face the real world.

Eventually, Poseidon’s son Triton tells them of the defeat of Typhon – how Zeus was nearly destroyed, but managed to rally and crush the monster.  Celebrations are in order.  There is no angry summons from Zeus, which confirms what Poseidon said – it was his monster to defeat, and he did not expect help from Poseidon or Hades.

The Lord of the Sea’s face is perfectly blank as he receives the news.  He nods in acknowledgement, and if he’s disappointed that his chances of doing something different with the rest of eternity have vanished along with Typhon… he makes no sign.

Aphrodite leaves first; it would be extremely unseemly for the two of them to arrive at Olympus together. She isn’t sure how to feel either, about Typhon’s defeat.  She’s relieved,  _so_  relieved, that Ares and Hephaestus are all right.

But the world that Poseidon described… the chance to rewrite it all…

When Aphros and Bythos bring her and Eros to the shore again, she turns and kneels before them.

“I am grateful to you for risking your lives to bring Eros and me to safety.  I won’t ever forget how terrifying that day was; and the bravery of my oldest companions in saving us.”

They bow their heads. “It was our privilege to help you, Lady Aphrodite.”

“When I have returned to Olympus, I will make a constellation of you.  Stars over the night sky to remind the world of my beloved friends.”

She makes good on her word; completing the task before Poseidon even arrives on Olympus.  Two fish, joined together by a cord, representing her holding Eros’ hand as they fled to safety.

“Pisces,” she names it. “All who are born under this sign will be selfless, they are always willing to help others, without hoping to get anything back.  They will be ruled by empathy and emotional capacity.”

The obvious connection is the selfless fish, who rescued her and Eros from danger.  But for her, Pisces will be a reminder too of the bittersweetness of what might have been, and a reminder of a conversation where empathy and emotion was found in an unexpected place.


End file.
